Wounded Warrior
by ardavenport
Summary: Obi-Wan is injured. Qui-Gon is patient. Mostly.
1. Chapter 1

**WOUNDED WARRIOR**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 1**

"This way! This way!"

Voices repeated the command, while others shouted demanding to be told more. Obi-Wan did not hear his Master's voice amidst the panicky tumult, but he could feel his hand under his shoulder, grasping a handful of robe and carrying him with the others. But all he could see were the bodies around him, arms and clinched hands. No faces. His robe supported most of his body, though he could feel the weaknesses threatening to tear under his weight and smell the burned fabric. The legs of the people carrying him jostled his body as the mob moved out of the open meeting hall into an enclosed darker space.

Hands clutched his legs and boots and brushed against his left foot, the one part of him that was injured. Obi-Wan sucked in air through his teeth, a slicing sound, like the pain. His foot was still there, he was sure of that, but the intense burn went deep, as if his flesh had been fused to the sole of his boot.

They bumped and shuffled into a better lit room with natural, outside light reflected on the ceiling. Though he was twenty-two years of age, he was not very large (certainly not by Qui-Gon's standard) but a dozen people had rushed to carry him anyway.

"Over here! Over here!" The command echoed between the bearers along with several, 'easy's, 'careful's and 'all right's. Qui-Gon remained silent, but when Obi-Wan was laid on a soft, padded surface it was his Master's hands that cradled his head.

Long strands of dull brown hair touched his cheek and he caught a glimpse of dark blue eyes looking down at him and the hint of a smile. Qui-Gon knew he was not hurt badly.

"Give him air! Give him air!" a meeting hall official pushed the crowd back. The would-be helpers were reluctant to give up their minimally positive role as if they were seeking absolution for their calls for violence only moments before.

Obi-Wan lay on a full body recliner next to a wide window in what appeared to be an office. The recliner was not properly adjusted to his height and the rumply folds of his damaged and singed robe jabbed him. Faint wisps of smoke still rose from his left boot. The smell of burnt fabric and plastoids intensified.

Obi-Wan looked upward to scan the worried faces.

"Out of the way! Out of the way!" Senator Bladdos and his aide, Mainuz, pushed through with a small, pretty woman in a blue and yellow striped suit and carrying a matching blue and yellow case with a large silver triangle on the side. Obi-Wan lifted his head for a better look, but his Master's large hand gently pressed it back down on the cushion. Then the second hand loosened the Padawan's lock on the back of his head.

"Get people out," the woman demanded, her voice carrying strongly over noise around her. "And chair for me, for sit on." Two uniformed meeting hall officials enthusiastically drove out the crowd. The bodies shuffled out with heads still turned, their gazes still clinging to Obi-Wan.

His forehead warm under his Master's hand; Obi-Wan felt an increasing detachment from his wound. It still seared his flesh, but it no longer overwhelmed all his senses. Breathing deeply, Obi-Wan pushed away his embarrassment over needing his Master's help with such a limited injury. He heard Qui-Gon's voice close to his ear. He closed his eyes. . . .

Obi-Wan started. The broad dark brown back of Qui-Gon's robe bent over his leg which was clasped under his Master's arm. Obi-Wan grimaced; the pain was back. The inside of his boot scraped by the injury as Qui-Gon first slowly tugged it loose and then completely off his foot. Obi-Wan breathed deeply and exhaled the pain to the Force, along with his annoyance at his Master. Qui-Gon's influence with the Force was very strong.

His boot came off and Qui-Gon held it up. The end was black and burned all the way through. It was ruined. The woman in the blue and yellow striped suit bent over his foot, now resting on a square, white pillow. Obi-Wan looked around. The Senator and others were gone. The door of the office they were in was closed. The three of them were alone.

Sniff.

Obi-Wan watched the woman put her petite nose right next to his foot and sniff again. The toe of his sock was singed black, curled and charred. Still keeping her nose to his foot, she reached up and began pulling the sock off. She rolled it up carefully at the end. It stuck in a few places, the tugging on his burns magnifying the searing pain as if the flesh were about to be pealed away. But Obi-Wan remained still, not even allowing himself a reflex flinch, having distanced himself now from the injury.

She pulled the remains of the sock away and tossed it aside.

Sniff, sniff.

The woman sniffed around his foot from all angles and then part way up his leg. Then she reached into the case that Qui-Gon now held open for her and pulled out a blue bulb with a long silver needle protruding from it. His eyes fixed on his Master, Obi-Wan kept still as she plunged the needle into his foot.

Immediately cool numbness spread outward from where she pulled out the needle. It a moment the numbness froze out the pain completely. It was not a very selective anesthetic. His entire foot felt like a bloated lifeless weight at the end of his partially deadened leg.

With Qui-Gon silently holding her case of instruments the woman began cleaning his injury. With the soot and bits of sock cleaned away Obi-Wan could see that most of the damage was to the big toe on his left foot. The toenail was still there but the skin around it was black, red and blistered. The woman worked swiftly, her small nimble fingers pointing a humming silver cylinder at some places and spreading bacta gel in others. She dabbed with fluffy white absorbers and they came away bright red with blood.

The procedure was over in minutes with the healer applying a final bacta patch and winding a thick gauze wrapping around his toe to hold it in place. She tossed her implements into the case, took it from Qui-Gon and closed it with a snap. She sniffed around his toe again and stared down the length of Obi-Wan's body at his face. She had large brown eyes and a small dainty mouth with full lips that here puckered with concentration. Crouching and coming around the recliner, she began sniffing up his leg again with Qui-Gon stepping out of her way and folding his arms as he watched.

The woman proceeded up the leg to his body, taking good long sniffs of his stomach and chest. She paused to grasp both his hands and push her nose close to his palms and wrists. Then she went to his neck and ears. Even face to face with her, Obi-Wan never felt like she was even looking at him, just examining the body that she had been assigned to heal.

After one long sniff to the top of his head, her nose poking in his hair, she finally straightened.

"Is good," she announced in a deep resonant voice, her hand resting on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Thank-you," Qui-Gon answered in his own masculinely resonant tone.

The door to the office opened and Senator Bladdos hurried in. He stopped, the door sliding shut behind him. His eyes went from Qui-Gon to the woman in blue and yellow stripes, to Obi-Wan and finally to his foot on its pillow and his bandaged toe, the white wrapping making it twice its normal size.

"Is that it?" Bladdos demanded. He was broad-shouldered, silver-haired and pink-cheeked, a stately Human politician with a loud clear voice. Bladdos stepped forward, glaring down at Obi-Wan's toe with disgust.

"From the holos you'd have thought he was cut to pieces by those blasters. They're thinking that right now. Practically groveling over the disgrace of it. If I show them this now, they're going to laugh," he snarled. He turned on the woman accusingly.

"There's got to be something else. Trauma. Shock. Maybe blinded by flash burns? You're a healer, what have you got?"

Obi-Wan's gray-blue eyes widened at the suggestions, but the warning glare from Qui-Gon behind Bladdos's back prompted him to stay silent.

"Nothing for you," the woman spoke back, her voice threatening, her small hand squeezing Obi-Wan's shoulder hard. "Nothing for those _pretender_ defenders out there. Groveling they _should be_ to be even near true warriors such as these." She looked toward Qui-Gon, her expression admiring and then, releasing Obi-Wan's shoulder, she laid her hand on his head and stroked his hair as he looked up at her.

Bladdos's small eyes narrowed with the same cunning expression he had when he cornered the planet's High Minister into accepting Republic representation for the Thalbin moons.

"I can make them grovel," he said, his voice sinking low and seductive. "Make them give up their play-acting at honor and warrior traditions. Squash their vanity and make them heel to their duty." He leaned close to the young healer. She pulled her hand away from Obi-Wan's head and leaned back, her expression at first offended by his suggestions. But it shifted into something more calculating, as if Bladdos's cunning were contagious. She obviously liked what she heard.

"I be silent, while you speak," she finally stated. She put her hand on Bladdos's chest and pushed him back. He grinned.

"Good." He clasped his hands together eagerly.

"You," he turned and pointed at Qui-Gon. "Put that robe back up again and look threatening." Qui-Gon did not move and glowered back, his arms folded before him.

"Like that," Bladdos said making a winding gesture with his hand. "But more ominous." Qui-Gon responded with an exasperated expression and he pulled the hood of his robe up. They stated to leave.

"Wait!" Bladdos stopped them before the door opened. He looked back toward Obi-Wan as if finally noticing him. "We can't leave him alone. It would look bad." He poked a finger into Qui-Gon's chest. The tall Jedi Master was more than a head taller than the arrogant Senator. "Stay here. We'll send a droid. As soon as it gets here, come out and stand in your position behind me. And don't. Say. Anything."

Bladdos swept the healer out with him. The door closed behind them, leaving them alone. Qui-Gon lowered the hood of his robe and sighed.

"We are hear to serve," Obi-Wan reminded him, grinning.

"We are," his Master agreed wearily. He returned to the recliner and sat down on the stool next to it. "And you served very well, my Padawan." He laid his hand on Obi-Wan's arm. Obi-Wan nodded, accepting the praise.

"But I am still wondering, Master. . . .is this really the best way for us to serve?"

"It is the way we are called upon to serve," Qui-Gon answered in a way that Obi-Wan noticed avoided the implied criticism of Senator Bladdos's methods and abrasiveness. So, Obi-Wan addressed it directly.

"But all we have been called upon to do is stand behind people and look intimidating. Is that a proper use for Jedi? For this entire mission Senator Bladdos has treated us like big, dumb muscle. Does he really need Jedi for that?" Obi-Wan had obediently accepted their minimal role, but after the shooting broke out in the conference room, he thought that the time had come to discuss what their purpose should be. He began pulling at the folds of his robe under him.

"It does appear that Jedi were absolutely required today," Qui-Gon pointed out. "I don't think that 'big, dumb muscle' could have saved the ministers from that last outburst." Qui-Gon got up and began helping him take off the robe, taking care to pull Obi-Wan's Padawan's braid free of the fabric first. He slid it off Obi-Wan's arms and shoulders and tugged it out from under him. Then he held it up.

"I would expect that the holos that Senator Bladdos spoke of are quite vivid," Qui-Gon commented about the several charred holes that the blaster bolts had made in the hood and the body of the robe. One partially severed sleeve hung lower than the other and a blackened strip of the hem almost touched the floor.

Obi-Wan looked toward the desk at one end of the office. There was a holo-com on it.

"Perhaps we should see?" he suggested.

Qui-Gon nodded. Putting aside the ruined robe, he went to the desk and retrieved the holo-com, placing it on a stand next to Obi-Wan's recliner. He fiddled with the controls, looking for the public reception channels. Ghostly holo figures flitted in the air over it in transparent, blue-tinged colors.

". . . .and the delegations are sequestered this very minute with Republic envoy Bladdos. We have NOT been allowed inside the proceedings. . . " a pretty male announcer spoke in a rushed, excited tone.

"And we still have no word of the status of the Jedi protectors to Senator Bladdos and his party. We're fairly certain that Master Qui-Gon Jinn escaped unharmed, but the fate of Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi is still unknown. Let's look at that holo-copy again." The announcer stood before the background of the large meeting room where the two Jedi had mutely served Senator Bladdos for the past few days. Outlines of droids, guards and techs scanned and paced the ruined room behind him.

The image scattered into static and then expanded into a wide view of the conference room. The holo-recording started with the Melg minister shouting down the Staretz Confederation ambassador who declared a mortal insult and, along with his whole party, drew his blaster and started shooting from the outer seats. While the recorded violence started, Qui-Gon began helping Obi-Wan adjust the recliner and slide out of his belt and loosen his tunic.

Over the desk, the Obi-Wan image activated his lightsaber. The Qui-Gon image, behind Bladdos, leaped high over the Senator and his assistant and landed in the center of the round conference table, his bright saber blade deflecting blaster bolts as he landed. Obi-Wan defended the people at the table closest to the attack; Qui-Gon defended the ones furthest away. But only a few of the conferrees showed enough sense to flee the target area and take cover. Most of them sat back with offended expressions; a few of them shouted back at the deadly storm of weapons fire. A few others even tried to return fire, but the lightsabers defending them sliced through the muzzles of their blasters with squeals of melted and ruined metal.

A fierce cascade of blaster bolts rained down on the holo-Obi-Wan who spun, blade whirling, robe pierced and blown about by the oncoming fire. Obi-Wan remembered being nearly at his limit, catching and deflecting the deadly energy blasts that would kill, letting go of the ones that would miss and explode against the floor or furniture. Lightsaber blade whirling, the image leapt, jumped and spun, one leg swinging up high.

A blaster bolt exploded with a spectacular white flash on the end of the raised boot less than an arm length in front of Minister Tebb's head. This close explosion finally cued the conferees to duck below the table or to run away from the barrage entirely.

The Obi-Wan image dove forward, rolling to lie flat on the ground while the holo-Qui-Gon ran forward, flipping high off the table and landing with the sweep of two lightsabers as the fallen lightsaber ignited, called to the Master's hand. He miniature Jedi Master continued forward and the scene suddenly shifted to a view from the other side of the room as two whirling blades cut through the blasters and some of the extended limbs holding them.

The blaster fire stopped.

At this point, the real Qui-Gon tugged off the other boot from the real Obi-Wan's uninjured foot.

In the holo, the two small lightsabers hummed ominously in the hands of the tall robed figure, long hair wildly draped over the shoulders and down the back. Smaller holo-figures cringed and moaned around the victorious one. The small transparent Qui-Gon turned around as if in challenge to the others present. The lightsabers went out. Several people began shouting and then shrieking. The Qui-Gon went to the smoking, huddled robe on the ground.

"And in a truly magnificent display of Jedi warrior skills, the Staretz honor challenge - if that is what it can be called - was literally cut short," the announcer resumed his commentary after a burst of static.

"Muran," a holo-head-and-body materialized, apparently sitting at a desk in another location and addressing the pretty announcer. "It looks as if the Surklaff and Melg delegates are in the disgrace bin as well, they were so quickly disarmed by Master Qui-Gon Jinn, not that they were all that swift drawing their weapons in the first place when the shooting started."

"That's right," Muran nodded his pretty face. "They lost their honor weapons pretty quick, and maybe a few fingers as well. We'll all be sure to be counting them later."

"And has there been any word of the condition of Apprentice Obi-Wan Kenobi?" the seated announcer asked rapidly.

"Nothing so far," Muran said eagerly. "He's still sequestered with his Master, but we've just learned while we were running the holo that a special medical droid has been sent from Senator Bladdos's ship - -"

Qui-Gon clicked the holo com off and sighed. Obi-Wan grinned; Qui-Gon's patience with this world was finally waning.

"You are amused by your situation, My Padawan?" he asked, peering down at Obi-Wan's pillowed foot.

"More by yours, My Master," he responded, his grin broadening. "The holo-facz will be even more aggressive."

"And I shall remain silent. And intimidating. As Senator Bladdos has requested." Qui-Gon smiled. "And I believe that you will be most in demand." Qui-Gon inclined his head and nodded toward the wide windows of the office. Three distant holo-facz droids slowly panned outside like large metallic insects looking for prey. Obi-Wan reflexively kept still even though he knew that the entire building was triple shielded against any intrusive snooper droids.

"But I think to satisfy Senator Bladdos's needs you will not only need to be silent, but also unseen. He seemed quite disappointed that you weren't more seriously injured." Qui-Gon nodded toward Obi-Wan's heavily bandaged toe.

The young man grimaced. "Master, can Senator Bladdos seriously expect to intimidate the delegates into an agreement over this? By such blatant manipulation?"

"I would expect so," Qui-Gon nodded. "And I am heartily glad that he is leading. The delegates are well matched by Senator Bladdos. For all his bluster and abrasiveness, Bladdos has devoted all his energies to this mission; he is a keen observer and quick to take an advantage when he sees one. And his staff is intensely loyal to him; he appears to have earned it. They are all totally committed to the success of these unification talks."

The door to the office slid open. A gold and black medical droid rolled in accompanied by one of Bladdos's minor assistants.

"The droid will stay here," the young Rhodian announced. "And I am to accompany you to the private conference chamber Master Qui-Gon."

Qui-Gon sighed, rose and put his hood over his head. Sliding his arms into the opposite sleeves of his robe, he smirked at Obi-Wan before turning toward the assistant. Apparently the Jedi Master's expression was not so benign because the young Rhodian's drew back, his green antennae lowered nervously. Then he recovered, apparently realizing that Bladdos had requested 'threatening'.

They left Obi-Wan alone with the droid, which immediately scanned him for injuries. It bleeped a bit disappointedly when it discovered that other than some bruising, Obi-Wan's only significant injury, his left big toe, was already treated. Obi-Wan reassured the machine that it would be activated immediately if there were any medical emergencies before it shut down for internal diagnostics in the corner of the room.

**- - - End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**WOUNDED WARRIOR**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 2**

For some time Obi-Wan stared up at the bland ceiling, contemplating many days of standing silently glaring at emotional and posturing delegates. He recalled his first meeting with Senator Bladdos who, without introduction, pronounced him 'too small to be any good' and demanded that Qui-Gon send back to the Temple for 'something bigger and meaner' before they left Coruscant. Qui-Gon's cold denial had sufficiently satisfied the Senator that at least one of his Jedi escorts could be useful for his purposes.

Obi-Wan had reviewed the facts and history of the Staretz unification talks, the factions, the traditions and objections of the various ethnic and corporate entities. None of that had mattered to Bladdos, or his staff, who sneered at the suggestion that either Jedi actually participate in the talks. He was more concerned that his Jedi not ever stand together so Obi-Wan's unimpressive stature was less obvious.

For the first few days Obi-Wan had sincerely imagined that he was looking at Bladdos whenever he glared at any disruptive delegates. Bladdos was pleased, but he had done it too well because Qui-Gon had sensed the real target of his ire and had admonished him for it in private.

Days of observation had revealed how exceptionally well suited Bladdos was at herding the snarling mass of delegates toward their duty. Just prior to this mission, Obi-Wan had prepared himself with puny facts. Bladdos and his staff had come armed with an arsenal of knowledge, cunning and skill. They knew who to flatter, they knew who to bribe, they knew who they could have removed from the room. But every trick and insult still advanced the talks toward their goal, establishing the unified governance. Qui-Gon himself had said, 'It was impressive.'

Accepting that he had much to learn about this type of negotiation, Obi-Wan finally looked down at his wounded toe, propped up on the white pillow. The bottom of his foot tingled a little, making it feel less like an object separate from himself.

Another holo-facz snooper cruised by the window.

The office was sparsely furnished with desk and chairs that had just enough metal-blue surfaces to make them desk and chairs. Matching abstract shapes decorated the walls and there were cabinets and a meeting table by the far wall where the droid had retreated. There were a few pictures of people on a shelf behind the desk as well as some text sheets, indicating that someone used the office, but otherwise it was very plain with pale walls and some squat plants in heavy pots.

Obi-Wan turned on the com on the stand next to him and tapped through the public channels. He saw holos of . . . .

. . . . Qui-Gon emerging from the office anteroom with Bladdos's Rhodian assistant. He impressively stared down the throngs of beings shouting questions at him while the security droids and officials warned them back.

. . . . the blaster confrontation in the conference room seen from different angles.

. . . . three commentators arguing over the merits of the unification of the Staretz, Po-Staretz and Staretz-Mek Confederations.

. . . . the blaster confrontation in the conference room replayed as he and Qui-Gon had originally seen it.

. . . . five holo-facz persons comparing what they did not know about the sequestered negotiations and a lot of speculation about what they did not know about the condition of the 'wounded warrior' Jedi Apprentice and how his Master would react if his condition 'became terminal.'

. . . . the blaster confrontation in the conference room recorded from a rather crude personal com belonging to a minor participant.

. . . . some holo-facz recordings of Jedi in confrontations on other planets and some inflated descriptions of Jedi abilities, along with a narrative about 'Ancient Jedi Blood Traditions' that Obi-Wan had never heard of.

. . . . the blaster confrontation in the conference room recorded from above the circular table with several voices arguing about the general ignorance of the commentators on the other com channels about Jedi. One voice affirmed that the Jedi Apprentice was at most grazed by the blaster fire since none of the blaster bolts exploded or ignited his robe. The other voices firmly denied that it was possible that anyone could be standing before what amounted to a firing squad and _not_ be hit, and that at least one blaster bolt did explode on the Jedi's boot. The other voices also accused the first voice of increasing the hyperbole circulating about the invincibility of Jedi fighting skills.

. . . . an interview with a caterer about the food taken to the sequestered conference room.

Obi-Wan turned the holo-com off when he came across another recording of the blaster confrontation in the conference room set to music.

He looked down at his bare feet. He now had a cold feeling in his left foot. The pain began to return as well, but as a more subdued burning and itching only in his toe, not the sharp fresh pain that reverberated up his leg. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind and feeling his whole body through the Force, breath and heartbeat, the flex and twitch of muscle, the warmth of blood and weight of gravity.

Gradually, he narrowed his focus to his left leg, his foot and then his toe and the injured parts of it. The last effects of the anesthetic dissipated. Beyond the healer's treatment, he could increase blood flow and accelerate healing. He focused on that, the Force prickling throughout the wounded flesh. The burn had gone to the bone in one place. It would heal, but he would still not be able to wear boots for a few days.

Something else intruded on his concentration. Movement nearby, a presence.

Obi-Wan opened his eyes to see Qui-Gon stepping into the office. The door closed behind him. Blue light tinted the buildings outside the office windows; it was white sun down.

Qui-Gon carried a tray stand. He glanced at the droid in its corner, but the machine remained dormant. Only one blue eye-sensor came on, but quickly went out again as Qui-Gon went to Obi-Wan's recliner and set the tray stand over his middle. Releasing the Force and letting his awareness expand outward, Obi-Wan pushed himself more upright. The tray contained a plate of layered, savory-smelling and puffy triangles, bowls of cut-up fruits, pressed vegetables amidst leafy garnishes, multi-colored dried pellets and a large cylinder of water.

"Are the negotiations going well, Master?"

"For Senator Bladdos, they are," Qui-Gon said, sitting down on the stool next to the recliner. "He has been quite ruthless. All the parties are in public disgrace. Not only did they draw their honor weapons in anger, they were seen to be rather incompetent with using them, since we disarmed them so quickly."

"You disarmed most of them, Master."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "This is not a competition. You defended your position well and prevented a death, risking of your own injury." Qui-Gon glanced toward Obi-Wan's toe. "Bladdos has aggressively argued that their only hope of recovering any of their damaged honor is to quickly settle their difference and finish the unification agreements. And he has been quite successful, especially with me standing behind him as a reminder. He asked me to glare in the direction of anyone who spoke too long at the table."

"He asked?"

"Ordered, actually," Qui-Gon admitted. "But the reminder of their disgrace has been inspiring."

Obi-Wan grinned, imagining his Master glowering at the blustering politicians. "So, they will be done soon?"

"I do hope so." Qui-Gon picked up a long thin drinking tube from the tray and plunked it into the water cylinder on the tray over Obi-Wan's middle. "In the meantime, everyone is taking a break to eat. Otherwise they have vowed to not rest until they have finished the agreements." Qui-Gon took a sip.

"Um, I would like to eat. But I would prefer to visit the fresher first," Obi-Wan admitted.

"Oh." Qui-Gon stood, took the tray away and put it aside. Obi-Wan sat up and swung his legs over and then Qui-Gon helped him up. They limped together, three-legged, to the office's fresher door. Once inside the small space, Obi-Wan was able to do everything he needed to on one foot. He carefully avoided touching anything with his wounded toe. The pain had receded into a burning annoyance that intensified when any part of his foot bumped or brushed up against any surface.

When he finished, Qui-Gon was waiting for him and they limped back to the recliner. Obi-Wan offered the fresher to his Master but he declined and repositioned the tray over his Padawan.

"I actually went with Senator Bladdos when the gathering recessed, along with some participants that the Senator thought needed extra attention."

Obi-Wan stared back. "He wanted you to intimidate people in the fresher, too?"

Qui-Gon only shrugged. "It is most effective when the target is in such a vulnerable position."

Obi-Wan did not reply to that, picturing the dark shadow of Qui-Gon looming behind nervous politicians cringing before the fixtures in a fresher. He dipped his own drinking tube into the water cylinder on the tray and drank from it.

Qui-Gon told him about the talks while they ate. The participants had ceased to argue about orders of names, colors of banners and seating charts, and actually moved on to serious issues like the wording of the laws governing the unification itself.

The sky outside slowly changed to purple as red sunup approached while they talked. They ate from the servings of food, stabbing triangles and chunks with serving spears, dipping some in sauce. The contents of the tray were laid out as a single large meal for one, which surprised Obi-Wan.

"Apparently, from the questions shouted at us from the holo-facz, your ability to eat a meal is in some doubt," Qui-Gon explained calmly before eating a crispy brown triangle.

Obi-Wan watched his Master chew for a moment before reaching over to the holocom and re-activating it.

The first images, from many angles, were of the ministers exiting the sequestered conference room, questions being shouted at them. Next came the various holo-facz reps quoting from anonymous dignitaries about what might have happened.

Qui-Gon confirmed some of it to Obi-Wan and smiled at most of the other chatter. One commentator claimed that if the Jedi Apprentice of the Jedi Master died or was permanently injured then this would trigger Ancient Jedi Vengeance upon the Staretz Confederation and any of their supporters who fired on the main conference table. A perky elderly woman listed who they were and where they were residing during the unification talks. The image cut away to a map with blinking dots to better show the locations of their lodgings. They also had an interviewer on Coruscant report that the Jedi Temple there had 'no comment' about the current events in the Rhuping system.

Qui-Gon then spoke of his mission report to the Jedi Council, who instructed them to continue as they had been since Bladdos's report to the Chancellor had been very positive about the talks and about them.

"He is pleased with us?" Obi-Wan asked with surprise.

"He apparently appreciates our silence and obedience most." Obi-Wan thought his Master looked a bit unhappy with being complimented for his obedience.

"Did the Council have anything to say about what is now being said about us? And that I'm not really injured?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Nothing. But this is hardly the first time misconceptions about the Jedi have been circulated. And Bladdos has been forgiven before for some. . . . fabrications. He get results," Qui-Gon said, shrugging. He sipped more water.

They scanned several more com channels. Qui-Gon's fingers twitched, using the Force on the com selector to click through them. The flickering images that danced from info-seeker to commentators to replays of the talks and the shooting. Most of the images of Qui-Gon deflecting blaster bolts with his lightsaber seemed be from below, making him look larger and more dangerous. And most of the images of Obi-Wan seemed to include the toe of his boot exploding and then his dive for the floor with his robe smoking.

They finished their meal about the time they exhausted the sordid levels of data and mis-information from the holo-facz. Qui-Gon took away the tray and put it on the conference table. Returning to the recliner, he looked down at Obi-Wan's wounded foot, resting on its pillow.

"Senator Bladdos has found your injury quite onvenient for his purposes," he said, folding his arms before him and tilting his head toward his Padawan's heavily bandaged toe. Obi-Wan wiggled it. It hurt and the gauze chaffed on the toe next to it.

Obi-Wan felt embarrassed, exposed. "Master, is this deception wise?" he asked.

"No," Qui-Gon answered immediately. "If it is undone, then it could undo everything Senator Bladdos has accomplished so far, though I would not be surprised if he yet found a way to continue dominating the delegates. He is very good at it. And he quite enjoys it."

"But Master, you've seen the holos. You're being portrayed as Bladdos's silent, malevolent shadow. And I've practically joined the Force. And what is the Ancient Jedi Blood Vengeance, Master?"

"Aaaaah, Senator Bladdos made that up spontaneously during an interview. He has a surprisingly creative mind for a politician."

"But it's pure deception!" Obi-Wan argued. "Surely the Council objects to it."

"As I have already said, they do not. And the Jedi Council is notorious for ignoring mis-information about Jedi, especially if it enhances the mystique of the Order."

Sadly, Obi-Wan knew this was true. He had learned years ago that people of all species tended to gravitate toward stories that were most entertaining regardless of their accuracy. The Jedi made little effort to counter the sometimes overwhelming tide of sentient fancy, and at times like these, they even swam with it. It was practical to use the tales and exaggerations to their advantage, since they would be out there anyway, like a persistent fog. But the desirable mystique came tainted with an odious haze of misconception and prejudice as well.

The office door opened. Bladdos's Rhodian assistant came in, his featureless black eyes sweeping from Master to apprentice.

"The delegates are returning from their repast and we are needed. And the Senator wishes to speak to you about your placement." He pointed a skinny finger toward Qui-Gon, who put the hood of his robe up again, preparing to leave. The assistant turned and swept Obi-Wan's tattered robe from the desk where Qui-Gon had put it aside. He held it up, appraising the burn holes and tears before rolling it up under his arm and leaving without a backward glance.

Qui-Gon nodded to his Padawan before following.

Alone again, Obi-Wan wondered what use Bladdos would make of his robe. Probably, it would be a handy prop, a reminder of how badly the delegates had behaved.

He glanced toward the holo-com, with its indigestion of vacuous commentary and lurid speculation. He turned away from it. He carefully slid his legs off the recliner and put his feet on the cool floor. Standing, he found that if he put all his weight on his right leg, his left toe did not hurt too badly, though it twinged painfully whenever he flexed his foot.

Balancing on his right foot, Obi-Wan stretched himself, a routine that began his usual morning exercises. Facing toward the windows, he watched a few more holo-facz snoopers drifting past the building. A security floater would dart out with a yellow flash of a warning shot if any of them wandered too close.

Taking his lightsaber, he began a one-legged version of some simple exercise forms with the deactivated hilt. The push and pull of muscle helped him clear his mind of the clutter of petty annoyances and dismissive politicians who populated this mission. Outside the shadows faded from mauves to deep maroons as blue sundown approached.

Obi-Wan executed sweeps of his deactivated lightsaber in slow motion and meditated on patience. Patience with Bladdos. Patience with his staff. Patience with the delegates. Patience with standing, watching long pointless, petty debates with Bladdos savoring his victories over them. He had squeezed out any emotion - compassion, sympathy, empathy - from himself on their first day of this mission. Senator Bladdos treated them like brute muscle for the negotiations and Qui-Gon had agreed to play the part. And by default Obi-Wan agreed as well. He had been surprised at first that his Master had accepted Senator Bladdos's rudeness, but Qui-Gon had only smiled at his question about it and instructed him to observe. And imagine himself in Senator Bladdos's place.

So he had watched carefully. This conference would unify several systems. It was the final act of years of politicking. Bladdos had been a negotiator, off and on, nearly from the beginning. The result was logical; the unification would bring together the peoples of many worlds and stifle years of antagonism. The methods were a chaos of promised favors, appointments to persons of high rank and dubious qualifications, wrangling over trivial points of ceremony and hours and hours of deal-making. If this was how the galaxy was run, Obi-Wan wondered why it didn't all crash from the weight of its excesses.

Bladdos plowed through the political muck like a hungry horned eel, squeezing out favors and bullying anyone who hesitated. He mastered details that Obi-Wan had no hope of commanding unless he was willing to devote a large portion of his life to it. Obi-Wan cringed to think of himself buried in the arguing and backstabbing. He considered himself a good negotiator, and Qui-Gon had commended him for his growing skills, but this was no simple peace treaty. This was the depths of the dirtiest politics that dominated the lives of billions of beings.

Obi-Wan now understood his Master's easy detachment from what was clearly Bladdos's world.

He exhaled long and slow, pushing all the air from his lungs and lowering his lightsaber hilt. The light outside was blazing now in the rising red sun, painting the sides of the nearby city towers in fiery hues, the shadows deep red like dormant coals.

He glanced at the holo-com again. The unification talks would not go any faster whether he watched the information channels or not. He had exhausted his interest in useless babbling earlier with Qui-Gon. And he did not wish to see yet another replaying of the blaster confrontation, with him diving for the ground.

Yawing, Obi-Wan limped to the cabinets and peeked inside, but he only found boxes of disposable serving utensils and cylinders, a clutter of stylets, signs, several varieties of cord on huge spools, stacks of colored text sheets, a big box of colored data chits and a few odd droid parts. Shrugging, he supposed the temperature of the room was fine and a blanket was unnecessary. The air was freshly circulated and unscented. He went back to the recliner, eased himself back on it and replaced his foot on the pillow again. His toe burned and itched a bit, but not too insistently if he kept it still.

The recliner was cushioned, but firm, comfortable enough to sleep on. He felt a bit abandoned, forgotten, a leftover detail in the negotiations.

A sentry droid outside flashed yellow, clipping a holo-facz snooper which spun away wildly.

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan relaxed, satisfied that he was serving well where he was.

**- - - End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**WOUNDED WARRIOR**

by ardavenport

**- - - Part 3**

"Obi-Wan."

He opened his eyes, waking to a quick, rough touch on his cheek, but when he looked up toward his Master, he only saw Qui-Gon's back, turned away, going to the medical droid at the other end of the room.

Sitting up, Obi-Wan blinked. The light outside had gone to a ghostly, sterile white. It was already well past red sunset, leaving only the planet's tiny white dwarf star in the sky.

Obi-Wan swung his feet off the recliner and saw a tall white and silver cylinder standing upright by the door. Surprised, he looked from the medical capsule to his Master who was impatiently giving instructions to the droid.

"There are no injuries for me to attend to -"

"Correct." Qui-Gon cut the machine off with a wave. "However, you will appear to behave as if you are tending a seriously injured patient."

The droid blinked, red and orange. Something inside it whirred softly.

"Please specify the nature of the injuries to be simulated."

Qui-Gon scowled, apparently unsatisfied with the droid's initiative and imagination.

"Shock. Dehydration. Blaster burns to the torso and extremities," he ordered.

Obi-Wan wondered if he would survive. The droid confirmed the instructions, and that they were only simulated injuries. Qui-Gon went to the medical capsule and activated it. The cylinder swivelled down into its cradle, hovering over the floor. The clear-plas opening slid back with a gentle whoosh.

Qui-Gon finally turned back and actually looked at him.

"We will be returning to the ship. Senator Bladdos has requested that you be transported in a suitable fashion."

"Requested?" Obi-Wan asked with a grin.

"Demanded, Padawan." Qui-Gon's hard glare invited neither discussion nor questions. He was not just hurried; Obi-Wan saw only unyielding purpose and no compassion at all.

"Yes, Master." He nodded, gathered up his belt and lightsaber, and limped to the capsule, keeping his weight off of his injured toe. Qui-Gon stepped aside for him. Obi-Wan laid his hand on the smooth clear-plas, preparing to climb in.

The office door slid open.

"What is he doing standing?" Bladdos snapped, then whirled about, confirming that the door had shut behind him before aiming his ire at Qui-Gon, who lifted his head slightly, his expression severe.

"You said he would look the part," Bladdos pointed a thick finger up at the Jedi Master. "He can't have his miraculous Jedi healing until _after_ he's back at the ship."

Obi-Wan stood there, frozen as if the contempt between Master and Senator had thickened the air around him. While he had slept, the two had transformed into enemies.

"My Padawan is quite capable of performing his part for your. . . . display. Your concern, such as it is, is misplaced."

Bladdos snarled. "Then get on with it," he ordered in a derisive tone that he used for delegates who used up thirty words complaining about another delegation being allowed six more words than they had.

Qui-Gon turned away from the politician. He folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe, an unhurried gesture that Bladdos followed with narrowed eyes.

"Obi-Wan, you will assume the appearance of the injuries that I have instructed the droid to simulate treating." Qui-Gon did not quite look at him as he spoke, his expression cold with what a Jedi Master might only privately admit was anger.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan did not hesitate or question. Anything other than obedience would put him right in the middle whatever conflict now divided his two seniors.

He climbed into the medical capsule, putting aside the folded covering as he did so. As soon as he had lain down, Qui-Gon spread the shiny fabric over him, effectively concealing his lack of injury. The ends of his long hair briefly brushed over Obi-Wan's face and neck as he brushed the covering smooth, the edge a neat line across his chest and the end of his thin Padawan's braid.

"Here, take these." Obi-Wan looked up to see Bladdos waving the ruined boots at Qui-Gon, who did not reach for them. Bladdos tossed them into the medical capsule. Obi-Wan barely caught them and pushed them down under the covering with his belt and lightsaber. The blackened toe left a large smudge on the covering.

Bladdos slapped the closure on the capsule and the clear-plas slid back into place, sealing him in. The air intake immediately purred into life.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, focusing his thoughts on lowering his body temperature. It was the quickest method of achieving the expected unhealthy pallor. He sank into a controlled cold numbness while his mind retreated into detachment. While the medical capsule muffled the shouting outside his refuge, the emotions still blazed over him through the Force.

Bladdos did all the shouting, though the words were indistinct even to his trained senses. He had witnessed quite a lot of shouting from the Senator. Anger and insults were part of his negotiating technique. It was nothing new. But Qui-Gon's thoughts dwelled darkly on the quickest methods he could use to silence the Senator.

The image of Qui-Gon's lightsaber blade held up under Bladdos's heavy chin, leaving a black, searing scar behind, almost broke Obi-Wan's concentration, but he separated himself from it, bleeding the color from the horror, consequences, and savage, delicious enjoyment. It wouldn't do any good. Bladdos would not be intimidated. By anything. The rules that applied to others were beneath him.

This last thought came from Qui-Gon as his fury dissipated. Obi-Wan felt no relief as it dissolved like smoke; he felt nothing at all but the cool of his body, his heartbeat as if in sleep. He heard nothing, saw nothing other than the Force. The confrontation above him ended. The shouting stopped.

The medical capsule began to move.

The motion was steady, taking him out into the conference room, Bladdos ahead, Qui-Gon behind. There were other people, standing, watching, getting out of the way. Things flitted overhead. And they continued to move forward, slowly and unstoppable.

There were even more beings in the entrance hall, their many presences made most visible through the Force since all their attentions focused on them, the medical capsule, the Jedi Master, the Senator. Others joined Bladdos, but Obi-Wan could not discern anything other than gloom, grave sense of the moment and the familiar presence of the senior delegates.

They passed into the courtyard.

Hundreds peered down on the procession. Beyond the courtyard there were thousands. Many thousands, waiting to see them pass, their presence oppressive in the Force, surrounding them from above. Obi-Wan heard nothing, saw nothing and dared not revive himself enough to take even an eye blink of the sight around them. But he did not need to. Through the Force, their presences echoed on all his senses, glowing, murmuring, bodies with heated breaths pressing down on them.

They moved faster. They had boarded a transport through the city that watched them from towers above and below, the audience always growing larger. Millions of them.

Their transport glided onto the immense spaceport platform. After only a brief pause, the medical capsule moved again.

There were Jedi waiting for them.

Obi-Wan could feel them. Two? Three? There were three with others - not Jedi - standing, then bowing, greeting Bladdos and the ministers, delegates. But Qui-Gon stayed by the medical capsule. Silent.

Obi-Wan remained non-moving. Their audience still watched, hovering above while the delegates communicated their grave sentiments. Bladdos was almost indistinguishable from them, he was now so much of a part of their tasks.

The medical capsule and Qui-Gon now rose into the ship. The loading ramp retracted, the ship hull closed, finally separating them from the vast gathering of watchers just as the enclosing cylinder isolated Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan floated in the silence. Waiting.

A click. And a whoosh. He took a deep breath, pulling the air deep into his lungs, warming them.

"Obi-Wan."

A warm hand nudged his cold cheek. He opened his eyes, blinking.

Qui-Gon raised his eyebrows at him. The backs of his fingers lightly rubbed the skin on his face. Obi-Wan felt the warmth spread to the rest of his body. He sat up.

"Hmm," Qui-Gon said approvingly. "A very miraculous recovery." He nodded, smiling. Obi-Wan swung his legs over the opening of the capsule and stood.

And pitched forward when the pain from his left big toe shot up his leg when he put his weight on it.

Qui-Gon caught him easily..

"Perhaps not," Qui-Gon remarked with amused consolation. Supporting him under his arms, he pulled him upright and Obi-Wan stood with all he weight on his right foot. Qui-Gon guided him toward a chair.

"Is that expected, Qui-Gon?" he asked. "A miraculous recovery?"

Obi-Wan knew that he had made a foolish mistake by not keeping the holo-com on while he waited in the empty office. Even amidst the replays of earlier events, useless blather and sometimes insulting commentary, there still would have been information about the status of the unification. Now he had no idea what had just happened.

"After a suitable amount of time, yes." Qui-Gon leaned on the rounded edge of a shelf. Obi-Wan looked about; the medical droid was gone and they were back in their cabin on Senator Bladdos's ship where everything was silver and gray metal curves with maroon striped edges.

Qui-Gon suppressed a yawn.

"Um, who was here to greet us?"

"Aaah." Qui-Gon nodded. "Master Peill, Master O'Fozzl and Master Chuma. Senator Bladdos had become unhappy with our service, particularly mine, and demanded that the Jedi Order send better representatives."

Obi-Wan grimaced at hearing the names of such senior Jedi, including a Council member.

"Will they be displeased with you?"

"They are already displeased with me," Qui-Gon stated lightly.

"Are you not concerned then?" Obi-Wan asked, confused by his Master's casual manner.

"No. I have no doubt that after suitable exposure to Senator Bladdos that they will see my point in the argument."

"You were arguing then," he stated. He had not even been able to allow his thoughts to wonder why until now.

"Yes," the older Jedi answered. "Senator Bladdos wanted me to injure one of the delegates with my lightsaber. One of the ones who had first fired on the conference. As a demonstration. Nothing life-threatening, of course, but painful, and visible." Qui-Gon drew his finger across his neck to indicate where Bladdos wanted the scar. "I refused. Bladdos was not pleased. Unfortunately, there were holo-facz recorders hovering nearby and while our words were effectively screened, it was a visible disagreement. So, not having information, the com channels invented several scenarios. Bladdos decided to use this to his advantage and hinted to some particularly credulous holo commentators about me demanding that someone be physically punished for your injuries. And that he was heroically negotiating for a compromise with myself and the Jedi Order."

Qui-Gon gestured toward him. "Your speedy recovery, though the Jedi Healing Trance, will redeem enough of the delegates' honor so that they can seal the compromises that Senator Bladdos has maneuvered them into and proclaim the official unification."

"Healing trance?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Apparently there is supposed to be some ceremonial chanting and raising of the Force on my part as well. According to Senator Bladdos." Qui-Gon now openly yawned.

Obi-Wan recoiled. The Jedi exaggerations had escalated beyond anything reasonable.

"And Senator Bladdos made that up?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon confirmed. "There was also something about Jedi Mind Twisting, Force disembowelment and a Blood Debt to the Jedi Order, but I missed the first part of that conversation."

"And Bladdos is using this? This. . . . invention?" Obi-Wan's tone rose a little higher than he had intended.

"He is." Qui-Gon sighed. He turned and extended his hand to a wall com. It clicked. A holo appeared above an inset desk. The channels shifted from transparent chattering heads to close-ups of Obi-Wan, pale and death-like in the medical capsule to the faces of worried delegates to images of the medical capsule traversing the courtyard, the crowds parting before it. And a hooded and glowering Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan saw that his Master had been glaring at the back of Bladdos's neck while he marched solemnly behind the medical capsule.

". . . .And there is still no comment from the Jedi Order about. . . ."

"The Jedi Order is notoriously secretive. Their mysterious warrior ways. . . ."

". . . .the honor of all the Staretz systems hangs in the balance. . . . "

". . . .Now the Mu'melg and Alk'melg delegations have announced that they will agree. . . ."

". . . .an historic compromise might yet be salvaged, if only. . . . "

Qui-Gon rolled his eyes, went to one of the cabin's bunks and, removing robe and lightsaber, stretched out on it. He began loosening the hair tie on the back of his head.

Obi-Wan turned back to the holo images.

The unification talks had transformed into a cheap drama, where now all the delegates were desperate to compromise, to complete their now desperate tasks. Had Bladdos really engineered that?

The holo image zoomed in on Senator Bladdos, addressing a small group of delegates. And behind him stood three very unhappy looking senior Jedi Masters. They all had stern and tight-lipped expressions, though Obi-Wan had to admit that Even Piell always looked unhappy to him.

"Master, how can the Jedi Order allow such blatant misinformation?" he asked out loud.

"And how would you propose they not allow it, my young Padawan?" Qui-Gon queried back, a little sleepily. "We were sent to serve, to support the unification. Now it is the Council's turn." Qui-Gon smiled up at the ceiling.

Obi-Wan had no answer. Though the Force filled the universe, the Jedi Order was only a very tiny group in it. And if the true nature of the Jedi could be shouted out to every the being he had sensed watching them, would they listen?

The holo image zoomed in on Senator Bladdos, addressing a small group of delegates. Obi-Wan remembered his sense of Bladdos, his purpose united with the delegates, that he appeared the same as them through the Force. And he realized that of course Senator Bladdos had not manufactured this hyperdrive drama on his own. He had his staff, and the delegates, the strongest advocates of the unification, and their staffs and their supporters, and perhaps. . . .the holo-facz, too?

A succession of excited transparent, chattering heads intruded upon the images of delegates, Bladdos, staff and grim-faced Jedi. Had Bladdos already told them to shut up and look big and mean for the holos? A grin crept across his lips.

He turned toward Qui-Gon, but his Master was already asleep on the bunk, his long hair spread out over the pillow.

Obi-Wan looked about and extending his hand outward, he called a pillow from the other bunk with the Force. A storage crate slid across the deck to him. He carefully placed his foot on the pillow, which rested on the crate. Then an upper storage unit opened and containers of food and drink came out to him.

On the holo, a pretty commentator breathlessly reviewed the notable deeds and status of the three Jedi.

Behind him Qui-Gon breathed slowly and deeply, oblivious to the noise.

His fatly bandaged toe poking upward before him, Obi-Wan settled down to watch.

**OOO END OOO**

(This story was first posted on tf.n: 8-Dec-2007)

**Disclaimer:** All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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